Stories from the Ground Floor
by magisterquinn
Summary: AU Rent-a-cop Victor Stone watches the romantic mishaps going on at Titan's Tower all from the comfort of his desk. RobStar but mostly BBRae.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Hello. Wow, I haven't logged onto this site in a while, nor written a new story in years. As a matter of fact, TT has been so far from my mind I recently rewatched all 5 seasons of it and fell in love with those beloved characters all over again. Having said that, I realize that while TT has been off the air for years it's fan base remains. I was surprised to find people writing about them. Albeit new people that may not remember my stories from a long time ago but people still. **

**Well I wrote this new AU story from the POV of Cyborg. The ships are my usual ones except for Cy, he remains asexual. It was meant to be a one-shot but I got carried away and it's far too long now. I hope it's not too weird but here goes, enjoy. **

**Disclaimer: Nope, last I checked I still don't own the Teen Titans. **

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**Chapter 1 - Day 418**

I know it's kind of creepy, but I spend a lot of time watching people. All sorts of people walk through this building and it's my job to watch them.

Basically.

It's not the best job for me, I mean sitting on my ass for two-thirds of my day isn't exactly a good use of my degree in Computer Science but money is money. Working for East Security Solutions isn't too bad. I get benefits. I usually tell myself this reassuring little tid bit about when 9AM when I see the young up-and-comers come marching into the building with their smartphones and handsfree headsets and e-book readers and tablet laptops. I envy them a bit, I really do. What tech I got I made myself, man. Like my car. Whoo baby! Do not get me started on that little beauty cuz I'll go off like a firecracker on an oil rig. I don't have money to spare on gadgets when I'm still trynna pay of student debt!

But, mark my words, one day I will _be_ one of those guys. Heck, I'll be the boss of those guys. Vic Stone Enterprises. Got a nice ring to it, don't it? My name will be synonymous with state of the art technology to enhance everyday living... or something like that. One of these days, all the waiting around and wasting my brain on sudokus as my rent-a-cop uniform threatens to rip at the shoulder seams from being 2 sizes too small for me, all of that will pay off.

But for now, I'm the friendly yet intimidating security guard/door man of Titan's Tower, the tallest building in Jump's financial district.

Sometimes I see Mr. Grayson and his step-father, Bruce I-can-buy-you-and-your-family Wayne, coming through. Usually they chopper in though so they don't have much reason to be in the lobby with us mere mortals. Heck, they're probably not even in the city most of the week. Grayson is always wearing the same thing: dark blue power suit with a black shirt and a silk black tie. His hair is always greased back and he is always wearing his sunglasses. I don't know why, don't ask me why. My current theory is that he's actually blind, his eye gouged out in an underground rich-people fight club, and the glasses are directly wired to his brain through the damaged sockets and now act as his eyes.

See, I'd make a great CEO of a tech company! Who comes up with that kind of stuff? I'll tell you who, Vic Stone. Booyah!

I've never seen him with a lady friend but I do notice that the model daughter of the Tamaran Consulting CEO, Kori Anders I think her name is, has a bit of a crush on slick exec. That girl is a sweetheart who, I'm sure, has been wealthy and fortunate enough her entire life that she doesn't quite grasp how naive she really is. I heard a rumour once that she's actually a princess and that dear old dad is a dethroned king of some Middle Eastern country. I would've believed it too cuz she talks with the most interesting accent. Like she doesn't know any English conventions.

One day, she was chattering away on her phone once when she ignored the wet floor signs and slipped. Now, understand that this woman towers over _me_ and I'm 6'5 and the bigger they come the harder they fall. I rushed up to help her but Grayson got there first.

"Let me help you miss."

Still reeling from the embarrassment of her fall, she glanced up and saw _the_ Dick Grayson. And trust me, he saw her back.

"Y-you are most kind, sir. Thank you for your assistance, I had overseen the pylons." I told you she spoke funny, I'm sure she meant 'overlooked'. Grayson didn't laugh at her face or try to correct her, he just smiled, stared and, for whatever reason, kept holding her hand. He finally cleared his throat and they both snapped out of it and noticed me standing there awkwardly. I gave 'em both an apologetic smile and went back to the security desk in the middle of the lobby.

I don't know what happened with them after I turned around cuz there were people asking for directions but a week later I did notice Ms. Anders waiting outside by the street when a black Lincoln pull over, roll its rear windows down to reveal Mr. Grayson. They talked for a bit and laughed a little before she got in the car with him.

Curious. Maybe I'll read about in the tabloids.

"Yo! Cy!" A raspy voice startles me out of my internal gossiping. It's Gar, the stupid aspiring comedian that delivers milk and creamer packets to some of the floors above. I used to go to elementary school or something like that with him a long time ago. We weren't really friends then but we've gotten closer since. Gar still calls me Cy, short for cyborg, which was a friendly, I think, nickname all the school kids called me because of my prosthetic leg.

He comes by about every other day craddling his little Vespa helmet and lugging around the backpack cooler. He doesn't have a Vespa, he has a 10-speed that he uses to get around. He makes package deliveries too, urgent ones from building to building, when he's not delivering creamer.

"Waddup, bro. How'd the show go?" He wants to be a comedian. Keyword: wants. He does these stand up shows on odd days at obscure bars. Last Tuesday he was performing at some place called The (Watering) Hole, which was actually very aptly named, and I attended. There was me, two other guys sitting at the bar and some grungy looking lady passed out in one of the booths. Poor guy, he tries so hard.

"Decent, got like 4 people there. They laughed mostly." We usually talked about nothing, he tells me a joke, then rushes off upstairs to make his rounds.

"I got a tip too."

"Like, money?" I ask skeptically.

"No like a tip on how to do my routi-" he's cut off by a woman clearing her throat behind him. I've never seen her before. Short, raven black hair, pale as a ghost. She's wearing a shawl that covers most of her top but reveals that she's wearing a skirt with some mighty threatening looking heels. She was kinda cute too, in that domineering bitch kind of way.

"I'm sorry to interrupt but I was sent down to grab a temporary key pass?"

Gar starts to walk away, mouthing an "oww oww!" at the woman in front of me. I grab the key pass binder and smirk at his lewdness.

"Name and company?"

"Rachel Roth. Slade Malchior Trigon LLP." Lawyer. That's right, I saw a Rachel Roth on my roster of new tenants this month.

"Employee ID?" She shoots it off and I jot all of her info down. I grab a pass and attach it to a holder and hand it to her.

"Here ya go, now the other guard in the security office will take your picture over there," I point to the glass doorway that leads to the main security office, "and you should have your key pass in 3 days. We'll send it up and from then you'll have 24hrs to return this temp before your shiny new card gets deactivated and you'll have to do all this again."

She flashes me a polite smile and nods, "Thank you sir."

"No, no. It's Vic. And welcome to the building."

She scoffs a little, "Yea, I guess."

"You guess? You're working for one of the top law firms in the country?"

She shrugs, "I did my internship with the DA's office. Working for a private firm, and one with such a... ruthless reputation will be new for me."

I totally know what she means. Straight out of law school, probably eyeballs deep in debt and then going to work for SMT? Slade Malchior Trigon is the biggest name in criminal defense and corporate law in the west coast. They're infamous for their high profile representation of many crooked Fortune 500 companies and their even higher profile criminal cases. A lot of money backing that firm but not alotta morals.

"Well good luck, first days are always the scariest." I wink at her and she returns the courtesy with a genuine smile of relief. She nods her appreciation and I watch as she puts her game face back on after that moment of vulnerability and heads for the security office. Poor girl has no idea what she's in for.

I watch as she heads towards the elevators where Gar is still waiting. He beams a huge fake smile at her. She blinks at him and then walks past to press the elevator button again before proceeding to ignore him. SMT's 32th floor office was one of the floors he delivers to.

This may be interesting.

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**AN: The oil rig joke, too soon? I mean it's tragic but it's not too sensitive an issue. I also realize I've made Cyborg the stereotypical black, friendly door man. Floor 32th is in reference to the first issue in the New Teen Titans arc of Trigon the Terrible, yay for inside jokes!**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: This is turning out to be more about Cyborg than expected. Maybe he's not quite asexual himself. **

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**Chapter 2 - Day 421  
**

Gar rushes by and waves quickly at me. He's running late. Kid has no sense of responsibility, why do you think he's a delivery boy at 25? He didn't finish college but he did try. He went to community college to be a veterinary technician when he had a revelation and dropped out. Gar was going to be a comedian.

I have to admit he can be funny, like in some situations, but when he gets up on stage it's just awful. He's got terrible timing, and he sweats a lot, and he loses his natural humour and makes lame jokes. He means well...

Man, am I bored today. Middle of the week, no visitors, no new employees starting and now Gar is running late and cant chat. I look down at the sudoku from today's paper. 7 here, no... here. Right, 7 there.

By the elevators stands Rachel carrying a box of donuts with a tray of coffees balancing on top of it. Gar slows as he approaches but is panting heavily. I watch as he flashes her a smile in between breaths and she ignores him. What he does next I can't understand. Why? I don't know, I'd say temporary insanity.

Gar starts talking to her, obviously trying to make a joke cuz he's giggling at himself but she stays stoic and just looks him up and down, probably wondering what makes him think that was funny. He starts to do that nervous thing he does when he scratches the back of his ear like he has fleas then swallows so hard I can see it from where I sit. She starts to inch away then suddenly he puts an arm around her shoulders.

What?! You idiot Gar! He's only met her once before and has known her for an epic 7 minutes and then seriously invades her private space by doing that? Rachel at first looks kinda confused but then it quickly turns to irritation and anger. She aggressively shrugs his arm off, says something while giving an oddly disgusted smile then walks away. Gar, continuing to dig a hole for himself, chases after her as she hits the elevator call button with her elbow. He offers his hands out for something and she pulls the donuts and coffee away from his direction.

Oh my Gods, Gar, stop. Stop right now! Quit! He's waving his hands apologetically and gesturing apologies about "what happened over there" while she looks about ready to pop. He insists on something once again and as she jerks away a bit of coffee spills onto her navy blazer. His face turns to panic as he says more things and runs off in my direction.

"Hey bro, got some tissue?" I slowly place my _personal_ tissue box on the counter and watch as one of the elevators indicate it's coming, "Thanks, Cy!"

Rachel gets in it, she's practically steaming from her ears, and elbows the door close button. Now my dear friend Gar, already late as mentioned, sprints down the lobby just in time to get his arm get crushed by the elevator doors. Crap, now I have to get up. The doors release his arm without much harm done as I trudge over.

He gets in the elevator and waves me off that he's okay, then offers the tissues to Rachel. She looks at him, then down at her hands, then up at him. Gar smiles awkwardly and reaches to dry her himself before he realizes that's not a great place to put your hands on a woman. Especially one who was offended by an arm around her shoulders. He neatly folds the tissues and places them on the donut box, offering his arms out again. I watch as Rachel rolls her eyes in anger as the doors finally close. Guess I'm not needed after all.

I trudge back to my desk. Why is he such a moron? Why am I friends with such a moron? It's gotta be some sort of... self esteem thing for me. Who am I kidding, I'm no smoother around the ladies. I do have better luck and a lot more sense than Gar, but I can't seem to find the right lady... or fall for those in the "psycho" category. Victor Stone, 2 girlfriends in 3 years.

The first was Jenn. I don't really know why we even got together, we had like nothing in common. And in retrospect, she looked kind of like a cat. A cat with a big ol' head. She did stuff like play practical jokes on me or my friends. Stealing my textbooks, rewriting paragraphs in my term papers, sending stupid emails to my foster mom, stealing my prosthetic leg and replacing it with a unicycle. Come to think of it, I had the worst luck that year we dated. 2 days before my biggest final I burnt my hand when she asked me to make her a cup of coffee, my writing hand. Broke up a month after our one year, 13 miserable months together.

That was the year my clunky old Hyundai got towed by the city. I didn't have the money to pay for it so it got crushed into a little cube. The kicker was I had to pay not just to get it crushed but also so the city would put the cube of metal into recycling. I told them hell no and took it home myself on my a buddy's truck. The 2 feet by 5 feet silver Hyndai cube now sits on a pedestal that Jenn made in my backyard as a sort of memorial to my once loyal car.

Sarah was much cooler. She was tough as nails though. We met when I was volunteering at the YMCA as a self defense instructor. She totally kicked my butt on the first day and we got pretty close. She told me she was taking it not so much to learn but to practice since she hadn't sparred in so long. Needless to say she was the smallest chick who could successfully pin me down.

She was perfect to me. Sarah ate like a horse, fought like a dude but was more beautiful than you could ever imagine. Long brown hair, beautiful brown eyes. Yo, she was way outta my league! We were steady but not for long. She was on exchange from Canada and we were only together for 5 months before she had to leave. I moped around for weeks and still haven't really met anyone who lived up to that. Sarah was really something, but not only is she in another continent but another timezone.

Oh well. Gotta move on right? Besides, I kinda gotta find myself first, y'know. Be my own man before I can be someone else's. And maybe when I finally find the right lady, I can be the man she needs.

For now, I can only sit back and watch.


End file.
